Disclaimer: Harry Potter and the associated universe do not belong to me, but two shots of tequila could change that.
Despite having such worrying problems, Harry slept soundly through the night. He awoke to gray shafts of light filtering through the cross-sections of the window. It was early still, and none of the other boys were awake. Only once he had turned over did Harry realize that the curtains on Ron's bed were open as they were the night before. The quilt was straight and uncreased. The bed looked as though it had been empty all night. Images of eyes permeated the last dregs of sleep but were all but forgotten as Harry finally stirred from bed.
The room was eerily quiet, undisturbed by even snowing. It felt stuffy; the air was heavy as Harry approached Ron's bed. Next to a pile of ginger hairs laid a torn piece of parchment.
Harry's fears were confirmed when he saw the ink paw print at the bottom as a signature. It said, "I have your friend. Come to the Shrieking Shack. No adults and I will give your friend back." The handwriting was shaky like a hand out of practice. The torn parchment became like the filthy rag Dobby wore and the baggy clothes the Dursleys gave him to wear. Harry wanted to burn all of it, but he knew he had to show Hermione. She would know what to do. She always knew what to do.
Harry dressed as quietly as he could despite all his fumbling around. It took three tries for him to realize he was trying to put his head in one of the armholes of his shirt. He crept out of the dormitory down to the Common Room. Luckily, Hermione was dozing in the armchair by the dying fire. She looked haggard but strangely serene. Suddenly, Harry forgot why he had come downstairs. All he knew was he was loath to wake this beautiful creature. The grubby paper in his hand eventually reminded him of his purpose.
"Mione?" Harry said softly as he gently touched her shoulder. She didn't wake up or stir at all. Her breathing slowed a hitch, and she began to snore softly. "Hermione? Wake up, please," he repeated a little louder.
Hermione opened a drowsy eye. "Harry?" she yawned. "I'm sorry. I hardly slept at all last night," she explained as she stretched to shake off the last bits of sleep. "Why are you up so early?" Hermione asked after glancing at the clock on the mantle.
Silently, Harry handed her the note. Hermione, a lightning-fast reader, took several moments to carefully read and process the ransom note. Her clam demeanor shattered as sobs racked her body. Tears spilled from her eyes, and Harry just held her close while she cried herself out. The tower was silent save for Hermione's sorrowful crying. Soon enough, her sobs subsided into deathly silence. Harry hated to see Hermione that way, but he was spent emotionally. Neither teen said anything for a long time. Both stared off into the ever-lightening distance and thought of nothing. Their minds and hearts were hollow as though a beast had ripped out everything that made them human.
The saltwater soaking Harry's sleeve turned cold, but neither Harry nor Hermione could feel it physically. The sun rose high above the horizon before either teen moved. Only the sounds of other students stirring could reawaken the catatonic witch and wizard. The clock told them that time had not frozen but had passed pretty quickly. Hushed as mourners, Harry and Hermione left Gryffindor Tower in search of Professor Dumbledore. He was the only one who could help though everything felt hopeless.
Walking through the castle corridors seemed to rouse Harry from his blank state of mind. Panic tried to settle in briefly, but Harry pushed his anxieties aside. He was determined to get his best friend back whether Dumbledore helped or not. Feeling more self-assured, Harry took Hermione's hand and began walking the halls with determination. Harry's warm touch seemed to reinvigorate Hermione who began to match his stride instead of shuffling along like a mindless zombie.
Luckily, Harry and Hermione caught up with Dumbledore right outside the statue to his office. Dumbledore asked no questions but wordlessly invited them up the stairs to his large, circular office. Without a sound, Harry and Hermione sat down opposite from the aging headmaster. He merely extended a hand and accepted the tattered parchment. He scanned it and set it down on his desk. "I presume one of you found this note at some point this morning?" Dumbledore inquired, breaking the silence that hung heavily in the air.
Harry nodded. "I found it," his voice cracked as he spoke. He cleared his throat. "I found it on his pillow this morning."
"Well, we will not be able to do anything until tonight," Dumbledore announced gravely. Stopping Harry's objection with a wave of his hand, Dumbledore explained his reason. "We do not need to attract any unwanted attention. No one should know about any of this. Not that most would believe the story in the first place."
Harry could concede that point. "So when are we going to try and save Ron then?" he asked with a hint of impatience in his voice. His best friend being in jeopardy made him just a little anxious. His anxiety was unavoidable and understandable.
"Come down to the Great Hall at curfew. Hide yourselves under your invisibility cloak and stay under it until we get past the Whomping Willow. I have my own ways of disguising myself, so you need not worry about that," Dumbledore advised Harry and Hermione.
Dumbledore gave the teens his best cheering smile before they left his office to while away the afternoon. The hours drug on at the pace of the world's slowest mollusk. The holidays were winding down, so more students were arriving every day, and the castle was beginning to fill up again. No place in the castle was truly quiet and peaceful, and neither Harry nor Hermione could stay still for very long anyway. They kept roaming the corridors with no concept of where they were going or why. Finally, the hustle and bustle of Hogwarts became overwhelming, and they just needed to escape.
Harry and Hermione left the Great Hall through the front doors and were jolted by the icy crispness of the air outside. They roamed the grounds until they found a spot completely quiet and void of all disturbances. They found themselves not far from the Forbidden Forest, so they settled down on some stumps on the outskirts. The usually foreboding and ominous forest barely registered in Harry or Hermione's minds. Bigger problems were occupying their mental processes to the exclusion of all else.
Suddenly, everything became unbearable, and Harry felt like his head would explode into a million pieces of shrapnel. "Why does it feel like this stuff is never-ending? That I will never escape from it?" His head was in his hands, and he felt his jaw clench and unclench and clench again. Every muscle in his body had tensed up. The air around him was volatile.
Hermione put a warm, mittened hand on his shoulder, and immediately, the pressure building up in Harry's body released. Instead of feeling empty like earlier, he felt calm and even a little hopeful. "Harry, I wish these things didn't happen to you or anyone. Bad things do happen though, and you have been given your fair share," Hermione conceded in a gentle tone. "Some day, Voldemort will be gone, and life will go back to normal. That's all you have to remember."
Her brown eyes found his green ones and conveyed a sense of tranquility. Harry felt like he could breathe for the first time since leaving Dumbledore's office. "Thanks, Hermione," he murmured. "I just hate that Ron's in trouble because of me. Everyone close to me just suffers, because they're friends with me. Why are you with me? You could get hurt," Harry pointed out.
Hermione laughed a little and rubbed his shoulder. "Harry, you couldn't survive without me," she said in a joking manner.
Harry couldn't help but laugh at this statement. "You make a good point. We never would have made it to the Chamber without your help, and you got me past those enchanted flames to get to the Stone back in first year."
She giggled a little more. "Very true. It would be very irresponsible for me to leave you on your own," Hermione admitted with a smile. Harry couldn't help but give this amazing girl a kiss. Laughing had helped lighten the mood though Ron was never far from either teen's mind. Anyone who could have seen them would have thought they were two teenagers crazy about each other. Hermione conjured one of her little blue flames, and it kept them warm as they sat outside during the frosty January afternoon.
The two talked some more and stayed silent for periods of time. They observed the other students frolicking on the ground. Some were having a snowball fight, and others were walking around the Great Lake. Their lives seemed wonderfully uncomplicated, and Harry and Hermione both secretly yearned for such carefree existences. As darkness began filling the sky, Harry and Hermione packed up and headed back inside to face the impending events. The darkness fell like a curtain on the final act of a show, and the ending was yet to come.
Harry and Hermione slipped nonchalantly into the horde of students headed for their Common Rooms. Hermione waited in a slightly empty corner of Gryffindor's Common Room while Harry ran up to his dormitory to grab his Invisibility Cloak. He slipped it on and carefully worked his way over to where Hermione was standing. He tapped the inside of her wrist, and they headed over to the portrait hole. Everyone else seemed preoccupied by something else, so Hermione casually disappeared under the cloak as well. As they walked up to meet Dumbledore, neither teen could quash their twin feelings of mounting dread.
Their hands were clasped firmly together under the cloak. They walked softly down the Grand Staircase and saw Dumbledore standing at the doors, talking to Snape of all people. Even though they were under the Invisibility Cloak, Harry and Hermione hid themselves behind a suit of armor. Snape made them feel uneasy whether he could see them or not. The two adults were speaking too low for either Harry or Hermione to hear them, but their hushed conversation was soon over, and Snape stalked off in his usual angry way.
Dumbledore never called out or indicated that he knew Harry and Hermione were there. He merely walked out the doors and left them ajar long enough for the teens to slip out into the frosty night. They heard the locks tumbled into place with loud creaks that pierced the air. Again, Dumbledore did not say a word. He merely began walking in the direction of the Whomping Willow. Harry wondered how Dumbledore was disguising himself, because he looked no different. Except for this shimmer Harry could barely discern in the moonlight silhouetting the headmaster.
Each step brought the trio closer to Pettigrew and Ron, but the tree felt miles away. Harry's heart was pounding in his ears and arriving at the tree did nothing to help that. "I warn the both of you. You must stay hidden until I tell you otherwise, and you both must stay close to me. And lastly, do not worry. We shall soon have your friend safe and sound," Dumbledore assured them, speaking the first words they heard from him all night.
He did not wait for an answer but began levitating a dead branch. Dumbledore used this branch to hit a knot of the trunk. Suddenly, the normally mobile and violent tree froze as though turned to stone by Medusa's gaze. Harry and Hermione looked with surprised expressions at each other. Wordlessly, they followed Dumbledore down a hollow under the Whomping Willow. Someone had come through the tunnel recently; the cobwebs and dirt were disturbed.
They worked their way carefully and efficiently through the dirt tunnel. In no time at all, the three of them came upon a wooden ladder leading up to a trapdoor. The ladder hardly looked stable enough for a full-grown wizard, but Dumbledore climbed it quickly and quietly with the agility of a much younger man. The cloak wasn't really long enough, but Harry and Hermione climbed the ladder, one right after the other. Luckily, the shack was just as dark as the tunnel, so no one would have seen their disembodied legs anyway.
Dumbledore staid them with an outstretched hand, so he could perform a charm on the floor and a set of stairs leading to the second floor. The floor looked unstable in places, and there was a fine layer of dust covering everything, including furniture broken into pieces that appeared to bear teeth marks. The Shrieking Shack was definitely creepy, but it didn't seem to be haunted. Dumbledore led the way up the rickety stairs that didn't creak because of whatever spell the headmaster had done.
Harry and Hermione were a few paces behind Dumbledore when he came upon a battered door. There seemed to be a light on in the room, and Harry could hear someone's small, scurrying steps coming from behind the door. "Step back," Dumbledore whispered as the teen couple stepped behind him. They moved back, closer to the rail, and Harry positioned himself in front of Hermione.
Dumbledore mumbled a spell powerful enough to blast the door apart and reveal a frightened Wormtail unleash a fine powder over the intruders. Harry and Hermione felt the floor spin out from under them and all was blackness….
/
The darkness lightened, and grayness took the place of the all-encompassing blackness. Out of the gray formed a single, coherent thought: "where am I and where is Hermione?" He tried to fight against the fog, but he was too fatigued. Everything darkened and all was nothing again.
/
After what felt like an eternity, Harry felt his head come up above the surface again. The blackness had been airless, but the gray had pockets of air for Harry to breathe in. Though his body felt weightless, he could feel an invisible anchor tying him to an imaginary world. He was vaguely aware of something else floating in the grayness, but he didn't have long to wander before the fog overtook him again.
/
This time, a beam of light shot through the darkness, and the dense fog began to dissipate. Slowly, at first, but rapidly after, Harry could feel air pour into his lungs, and his body felt like it had been weighted down with rocks. Soon, the fog disappeared enough to uncover the twitching form of what appeared to be a severely deformed child with serpentine features and lidless, red eyes. Even that gnarled figure grew still and faded with the darkness.
Finally, all was light, and Harry could feel the linen sheets caressing his skin. The support of the mattress underneath his body assured Harry that he was still alive and that his body was corporeal again. He became aware of a pressure on his wrist and the steady tapping of someone's feet next to his bed. Harry tried to open his eyes, but he was too weak. He knew he had been unconscious for some time, but he did not feel rested. Quite the opposite, in fact. The simple struggle to just open his eyes was too much. A lighter mist overtook his mind, a mist that was peaceful and rejuvenating.
/
Harry truly awoke early the next morning. His eyes opened and found the familiar sight of the Hospital Wing ceiling. He groaned a little as he tried to turn his head to the side. The least little movements caused sharp pains to explode behind his eyes. Harry closed his eyes again and began to move his muscles slowly and carefully, starting with his toes and working his way up his legs. Eventually, Harry was able to move his neck without any dizziness, so he opened his eyes again and pushed away any thoughts of fatigue or sleep. He turned his head to his right and saw Hermione, comatose, in the bed next to his.
He wanted to reach out and touch her, try to wake her up, but his body still wasn't fully cooperating. Harry licked his dry lips and noticed a water pitcher on the table next to his bed. As he reached for the pitcher, Madam Pomfrey walked out of her office with her head turned towards the floor. He cleared his throat to ask her the many questions on his mind, and this caught her attention.
"Harry!" she exclaimed and half ran to his bed. The use of his first name struck him as odd, but he didn't have time to think much about it. "You're finally awake!" Madam Pomfrey began checking his pulse and whatever other vitals she seemed to be checking off a mental list. While she was doing this, Harry tried repeatedly to speak, but his throat wouldn't make any noise. Finally, Madam Pomfrey seemed satisfied, and she pulled a chair up so she could sit by his bed. "Tell me how you are feeling."
Again, Harry tried to speak, but his throat felt completely desiccated. The matronly nurse understood and summoned a bottle from her desk in the office. She mixed it with some water in a goblet and handed it to an eager Harry. He downed it in two gulps and managed to bypass most of the bitter taste of the potion. Almost instantly, Harry's throat felt moisturized, and he felt a little more rejuvenated on the whole. "Thank you," he said finally, and Madam Pomfrey looked very excited. "What happened to us?" Harry asked as he gestured to Hermione and himself.
Her mouth pressed into a line, and her face took on this sad expression. "You were infected by a parasite that drains magical cores," announced a voice from the other end of the wing. Harry and Madam Pomfrey turned to see Dumbledore standing at the door as though he had Apparated there quietly.
Dumbledore's presence failed to shock Harry, though it did make him more eager to get answers. "Does that mean our magic is gone?" Harry forced through the lump in his throat. When Dumbledore's expression did not alter from the pleasant smile he had, Harry's heart became lighter. Madam Pomfrey looked to the headmaster, and he gave her a slight nod. She nodded in turn and patted Harry's leg as she got up and left the room.
Dumbledore then occupied the now vacant chair at the foot of Harry's bed. "Your magical core is fine. In fact, it is probably stronger than it was before," Dumbledore informed him calmly.
"But why?" Harry asked simply. A parasite like the one he had couldn't be a small thing. Something that stole the very thing that made him a wizard couldn't be good, but Dumbledore was treating it very lightly. This picture didn't quite add up.
"When you faced Voldemort as an infant, Harry," Dumbledore paused as if considering his next words carefully, "he left a piece of himself in you. A piece of his soul attached to yours."
"So I've had a piece of Voldemort inside of me for all these years?" Harry asked bleakly. The idea that some part, any part, of Voldemort had lived in his body completely repulsed Harry. Suddenly, he felt unclean knowing his body could house such evil.
Dumbledore nodded with the same calm demeanor. "I don't believe he intended to have that happen when he came to your parents' house that night, but I will leave the rest of that explanation for later." He rose from his chair as if to depart, "As for now, you need to rest before Madam Pomfrey comes for my head."
With a quick stride, Dumbledore exited the Hospital Wing, and the matronly nurse re-entered. "You should rest, Harry. Your body has been through a great deal and needs time to recuperate," she insisted as Dumbledore had predicted.
Madam Pomfrey pulled another potion vial from her pocket. "Wait, how long have we been here?" Harry inquired as she handed him a goblet containing the potion.
Her face was a little sullen as she replied, "A little over a week. You recovered rather quickly for a parasite this aggressive." The nurse's back was turned towards Hermione, but Harry could feel her thoughts moving in that direction.
Harry touched Madam Pomfrey's trembling hand. "Is she going to be okay?" he asked her earnestly as he stared into her face.
Her eyes couldn't quite meet his, and his heart sunk deeper in his chest. He collapsed weakly into his pillows and accepted the goblet of what he supposed was a sleeping draught. Harry swallowed the liquid without tasting it and felt its effects almost immediately. As he felt the familiar darkness creeping over him, Harry thought he heard Madam Pomfrey whisper under her breath. It sounded like: "I hope so."
/
Over the next week, Harry did something he never thought he would: homework. Part of him hoped this would shock her into waking up, but that hope was in vain. The only thing that betrayed any sign of life was Hermione's steady breathing. Sometimes he watched her chest rise and fall just to be assured that she was still alive. Her lifeless and motionless state reminded him too much of the year before, and it was painful.
Ron and other classmates visited a few times. They brought him homework and tried to keep the mood light. Oliver Wood stopped by to find out if Harry would be back before the next match. The visits cheered Harry a little, but no one even mentioned the elephant in the room. Everyone tried to avoid looking in Hermione's direction, but occasionally, his or her eyes would wander. Harry could see the sadness though his friends tried to hide it.
Even Dumbledore dropped in a couple times to elaborate on the parasite and its effects. "It can enter the body through a number of means, and it would seem that you and Miss Granger inhaled particles of it back at the Shrieking Shack. I went back after rescuing Mr. Weasley and examined the house. Somehow, Peter Pettigrew got hold of the parasite in powdered form. I'm sorry for acting hastily and putting you and Hermione at risk," Dumbledore apologized sincerely.
"Why weren't you affected?" Harry asked curiously. "You were standing with us and should have gotten the worst part of the dust."
"During my travels as an adolescent, I encountered this parasite, and I found a relatively unknown local cure. The problem is that it takes some time to work," Dumbledore admitted pointedly. Harry liked that he never ignored Hermione's presence in the room. "She will wake soon enough."
The headmaster's certainty elevated Harry's hopes some, but looking at Hermione's still body made it hard to totally believe. "If this parasite is so rare, then where did you discover it before?" Harry asked curiously. Harry was certain he had never heard of any magical parasite with these kinds of effects, and Dumbledore had mentioned it was rare.
"Albania. Coincidentally the last place Voldemort was rumored to be hiding. I believe Peter Pettigrew is serving an agenda other than his own," he surmised.
The mention of the Dark Lord soured Harry's mood even more. "So you think Voldemort was behind all of this?"
Dumbledore adjusted his half-moon spectacles on his crooked nose. "I think Voldemort has acquired a new servant. However, his plan seems to have backfired in a way he never could have foreseen. He intended to weaken you when he really made your powers stronger," the headmaster explained cryptically.
His explanation only confused Harry. How could he be stronger? In fact, he felt no different than before. "How can I be stronger? Is it because the parasite fed on the piece of his soul inside me? Why would he try to infect me with something that could destroy it? Didn't he know about that piece of his soul?" Harry asked in a rapid-fire way that reminded him instantly of Hermione.
Dumbledore chuckled and smiled mischievously. "I suppose it is time for me to explain to you what a Horcrux is," he announced as he leaned forward in his chair.
This word was foreign to Harry, and he didn't think even Hermione knew what it meant. "What exactly is a Horcrux?"
"A Horcrux comes from a branch of magic so dark and forbidden that most wizards are not even aware of its existence. It was forgotten, but Voldemort must have tracked the knowledge down. Horcruxes are objects with a piece of soul embedded in them. Splintering one's soul into multiple pieces takes the most evil act, the murder of another person, to make the soul unstable. I've never known of a person making more than one, but Voldemort seems to have made several. As long as these objects exist, Voldemort cannot die," Dumbledore explained seriously. No twinkle lit his eyes, and in fact, even he looked troubled.
Everything Dumbledore described seemed unimaginable. "So I was a Horcrux?" The headmaster didn't even have to nod for Harry to realize the answer. "Are Horcruxes considered evil objects?"
"They are dark objects, but the objects themselves are not evil. They are merely vessels for evil, intangible things, so the fact you formerly were a Horcrux does not make you evil, Harry," Dumbledore reassured the disturbed teenager. Harry felt better but only marginally. "Horcruxes are extremely hard to destroy, because the objects must be beyond magical repair in order for the Horcrux to be destroyed."
"What can do that? I thought magic could fix just about everything," Harry wondered perhaps a little naively.
That provoked a smile from Dumbledore. "Alas, Harry, if that were only true," he proclaimed. "Death is irreversible as is damage to a magical core. Those are two ways to destroy a living Horcrux. Objects have to be destroyed by something such as Fiendfyre or Basilisk venom." He put special emphasis on that last method, and Harry's brain made a connection.
"Hold on," Harry muttered. "Riddle's diary must have been a Horcrux!" Dumbledore nodded in the affirmative and waited for Harry to process this fact further. "He created it when he was sixteen… he killed someone when he was only sixteen," Harry realized with horror. Having met the sixteen-year-old Riddle, Harry didn't really doubt the possibility, but it still horrified him.
"Unfortunately, yes. I believe Moaning Myrtle's death facilitated the creation of that first Horcrux. Since then, two more have been destroyed. You and Marvolo Gaunt's ring." Dumbledore saw the question forming behind Harry's eyes and answered him before he could ask, "Marvolo Gaunt was Tom Riddle's grandfather and a descendent of Salazar Slytherin. I tracked it down recently and destroyed it with Gryffindor's Sword. Also a handy tool for destroying Horcruxes."
Harry leaned against his pillows and tried to process the idea of a Horcrux and everything that accompanied this revelation. Three pieces of Voldemort's soul had been destroyed. These things were the only things keeping Voldemort from an eternity in Hell. He was the reason Hermione, his best friend and girlfriend, was lying on the bed next to his. The one responsible behind Ron's, his best mate's, kidnapping. Harry would personally track down every single one of Voldemort's Horcruxes just to make sure that evil creature would actually die. "Do you know how many more there are?" Harry asked quietly.
"I have reason to believe that there are at least three more with the possibility of a fourth. I would like to train you, Mr. Weasley, and Miss Granger, and I would like your help to find each of the remaining Horcruxes," Dumbledore offered. "All of this would have to be done in the utmost secrecy, but I'm sure we can fit it in around your regular schooling."
Harry nodded fervently in agreement. "I'm definitely willing, but we'll have to ask Ron and Hermione."
"Of course. You and Miss Granger still need time to recuperate. I'll be back soon to check your progress," and with that, the headmaster was gone.
The room darkened around him, but Harry's mind felt more alive than ever. He pondered all that Dumbledore had told him and wondered what it could mean for the future. Perhaps they could defeat Voldemort in the next few years. Harry was sure of one thing: whatever happened, he could deal with it as long as his friends were beside him. Thinking of his two best friends made him look over to the one lying one bed over. He was shocked to discover her beautiful brown eyes staring back at him.
A/N: I apologize to all my readers who haven't received replies to their reviews or PMs over the past few months. Something was not allowing me to reply to them, which I always make sure I do promptly. Thanks for hanging in despite my sporadic updating. If you noticed, I am deviating quite a bit from canon, and I hope you will allow me the liberty. This is fanfiction after all!